Joan's back was against the schooner's rail; she could not recede further from him. She felt his hot breath on her cheeks and his arm stole round her shoulders in spite of her attempt to ward it off. She would at that moment have given ten years of her life to be handling the revolver which had dropped to the ground when she fainted.
Every nerve in her body was strung up to breaking point. The girl could have clawed at his face with her nails.
"I am unnerved—by what has happened," she said tremulously, still struggling to keep her face away from his lips which were seeking hers. "Stop! You beast!"
There came a slight jar against the side of the vessel—so slight that Moniz, his brain aflame, did not notice it. The girl was fighting mutely.
The form of a man appeared over the side of the schooner and shot across the deck. Joan was crushed against the rail, but what she saw brought a cry of joy to her lips.
For the man whose fingers were clutched savagely round Moniz's throat was Keith!
The Portuguese muttered a surprised oath, which ended in a choking sound, and attempted to swing round on his assailant. He was held, however, as in a steel trap. The four blacks who had returned to the schooner with Moniz were standing on the deck forward of the mainmast, watching the strug-
